


Bulletproof

by surreallis



Category: Actor RPF
Genre: F/M, svu rpf
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-02-05
Updated: 2010-02-05
Packaged: 2017-10-07 01:20:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,140
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/59848
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/surreallis/pseuds/surreallis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Chris gets a little possessive.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bulletproof

He didn't think there was a specific reason he didn't want Tergeson on the show, at least not yet, not in the first two seasons, but once Lee shows up on the SVU set one day, he realizes there is.

In a word: Mariska.

Lee and Marish are too alike. Lee lets loose with a scream across the set, Mariska laughs and lobs a quip back at him that makes Lee grin and jump and grab Chris around the neck to say, teasingly, in his ear, "So this is why you didn't want me coming around, huh? Jealous fuck."

"Bite me," Chris says, shoving him away with a smile, because Lee is like a brother and the shit they did on the Oz set wasn't for the faint-of-heart. _First one to twitch loses, Meloni. Now kiss me, you magnificent beast!_

By lunch Lee and Mariska are talking around him and touching easily, and Lee is starting to talk about going out for drinks that night if they get off early, or over the weekend if they have to work, and Mariska seems up for it. And why wouldn't she? She's the single one. Lee's marriage has always been on and off and on again, and Chris isn't sure he cares much anyway.

He gets grumpy.

She finds him sitting in Belzer's dressing room. Belzer is off all week and Chris figured he could isolate and be a prick pretty well by himself. But she knows all his hiding places.

"What's the problem?" she asks, and she's wearing one of those dark, silky slip dresses that wardrobe loves to put her in. God.

"Nothing," he answers, but he can feel the dark look in his eyes. Can't seem to control it.

"You're pouting."

_And you're mine, goddamn it…_ He meets her gaze. "I knew he'd do this if he showed up."

She fixes him with a confused stare. "Do what?"

He stares at her and then sighs. "Like you."

She lifts an eyebrow and her mouth quirks and he really doesn't feel like being the butt of a joke right now. He glares.

She sees and her smirk mellows. She walks toward him. "He's your friend. I figured you didn't want him on the set because he'd give all your secrets away." She's teasing, but gently, and she pushes his shoulders back against the wall and climbs onto his lap, her knees straddling his thighs.

He feels warm.

"You know more secrets than he does," Chris says, and he slides his hands over her hips to set her solidly on his thighs. _More dangerous secrets._

She smoothes his hair back and brings her lips close to his. "You're the one I want to fight crime with, Meloni, not Tergeson."

"You gonna fuck him?" He has to ask.

She pulls back and studies him. "Are you going to be upset if I do?"

"Yes."

Her eyes narrow, and he knows he's treading dangerously thin ice here. He doesn't care. She knows how he feels. He moves his hand slowly over the fabric of her dress, trailing his fingers along the skirt until he reaches bare thigh. She smells like oranges and something deep and warm. Something that does make him twitch.

She sighs. "Then I won't fuck him."

He smiles faintly and slips his fingertips underneath the dress, pushing his thumbs up the inside of her thighs.

She fidgets.

He brushes one thumb back and forth over the crotch of her panties. She kisses him, and he sucks her tongue in eagerly. She pulls away. "I am going to play though," she tells him. "And unless you're willing to sign those divorce papers, you'll behave."

He licks his lips and says nothing, and that's his tacit agreement. He's not willing to get divorced. She knows that. He knows he'd rather be the one she's cheating with, not cheating on, and the timing isn't as crap as he'd originally thought it was, because she'd have broken his heart if he'd gone to her. Still might. He's fallen that hard.

"We're going out tonight. You wanna come?"

"Yes," he says, immediately, because he's not leaving them alone.

She kisses his neck, moves her hips with his hand, trying to get him to touch her someplace better. He burrows his fingers under the silk of her underwear and into her wet warmth. She exhales against his cheek. "Good."

She's been talking about getting married lately. He doesn't know what he'll do when she finally does. Maybe the show will be over by then.

She hums into his mouth as he slides two fingers, brushes his thumb, lets her move the way she wants to. He's harder than concrete.

Her hand runs down his arm, tracing the contours of his muscles, and he loves that she loves that about him. As she moves, she brings her hand between them and presses the heel of her hand against his fly.

He shifts, carefully, trying to widen his legs without unseating her. She finds him and rubs and kneads and his mouth runs dry. Her head drops to his shoulder, her body moving almost automatically, and he touches her and listens to her breath as it quickens and starts to hitch.

_Fuck yes, baby. Come on._

She comes while panting into his neck, and shivering against him, her thighs closing a bit to keep him from touching her while she's over-sensitive, and he pulls his fingers away and just holds her there for a while, letting her relax.

"Jesus," she says breathlessly next to his ear. "We gotta stop doing this."

_Never._ "I think we're okay," he says, and he's a little surprised at how deep his voice is.

She looks at him, and there's something in her eyes that says she sees through him, but he doesn't say it, so she doesn't either.

Her hand moves over his dick again, and she kisses him. He kisses back eagerly, moves his hands to unbuckle his belt so she can really get a hold of him, but she presses in hard, and she's done this enough to know exactly where he likes it. He grunts and stars explode behind his eyelids, and she smiles against his lips.

"Fuck yes, baby. Come on," she whispers. And he doesn't care anymore. She's a force of nature without a break and she strokes him hard until he groans and comes and groans and comes, and then he collapses back against the chair. And fuck, he's going to have to pretend he spilled coffee on his slacks again.

She presses a gentle kiss against his lips and then his jaw. "I love you, you know," she says, and he knows she means it. One way or another.

"I love you," he says, and he wonders if she realizes how _much_ he means it.


End file.
